Infinite Night
by Carnivorous Mushroom
Summary: He never expected to end up like this. He never knew he would end up in a state in which he was helpless in the infinite darkness of the night. Never... Amazing what love could do to you... -Oneshot Told in the Phantom's Point of View-


_**----**_

_**Infinite Night**_

"_Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and stretching the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise men of fools; favouring the __passions__, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy."_

Marguerite De Valois

_--_

Once again, the cruel clouds of the heavens shed their wrath to the earth in the form of heavy rain. How these raindrops taunt me of my loss. It seemed to attack me as it hit my poorly protected form. The only thing I had for protection was my meager clothing, but that was not enough to shield me from the penetrating sheer cold of the raindrops. All I could do was to hope for it to end soon. It always did, the evening showers that invaded the great city of Paris never really lasted long. I thank the Gods for that; however, it would be a lie to say that I was a devout follower of Catholicism or any other form of Christianity. In fact, it would be a lie to say that I even believed in such a thing as religion. I have lost faith in it.

I sit here in one of many of the parks of Paris. The people that once occupied the park were now gone due to the heavy rainfall which ruined evening strolls. All old, young, and those in between ran to find shelter from the ever short Parisian evening shower. I; unfortunately, had no where to go; there was no shelter for me anymore. I had lost my dwelling due to foolish decisions.

Once again, I found myself thinking about _her._ I bitterly smiled at my muse. For a split second, I had worried about her welfare; I worried about her not having a shelter from the light storm. But of course, I was foolish in thinking she didn't have one, for the little soubrette was probably locked in an embraced with what she probably considered, "Her Knight in Shining Armor", but I only thought the Vicomte as her lover; not a savior. I seethed as I thought about how blissful the little happy couple was. They are probably safe and warm in the boy's château, while I am here freezing and unprotected.

Oh, what a horrible life was given to me. I envy those who have a nice warm, home to go to. I'll even go as far as to say that I am jealous of the men who have good little wives who love them. How I had wished for Christine to be my loving little wife. She would be the wife I would share a home with, show my undying devotion to, and take out on Sundays. However, such was not granted to me, and I am forced to live this pathetic existence.

If I had been born handsome, perhaps I wouldn't have been here at this moment. Perhaps I would be a rich man had I not been cursed with such ugliness. Yes, I was born with a deformity. I was cursed with a facial disfigurement on the right side of my face that would affect me for the rest of my life. Had I not been disfigured, perhaps my mother would have loved me instead of shunned me. Perhaps I would have Christine as a wife; maybe I would even be a member of the nobility and be considered a pure genius who would benefit the world. It could have happened, but humans don't accept those who are different, or "freaks" as they call it.

That is why I lost faith in religion. If God was so benign and wonderful, then why didn't he grant me a better life? Why would he purposely make me suffer in such a way?

Soon, the rain stopped and people scurried out of their homes to get back to the park. I hid my face by turning my eyesight downwards; my ugliness was too much for the world to take.

"Monsieur, are you alright?" asked a young girl's voice. I turned up to see her, but I then realized I committed a mistake, for the action of me facing her uncovered my unmasked face. She gasped loudly and took a step backward. "I-I'm sorry!" and then she ran off, obviously frightened by my deformity.

It stang. I had frightened a young innocent girl. I felt the horrible pain of rejection creep up every vein in my body until it reached my heart. My poor vulnerable heart…. I clutched my chest where my heart was located, and sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if what I was feeling now was much more painful than ripping my heart out. After all, if I were to rip my heart out, that would be the end; I would be dead and no more pain would be felt. But the pain I felt now would continue on for hours, days, years; a lifetime. It would never end. Never.

I wish I could return to the days when I had secluded myself; the days in which I had completely isolated myself from the human race. Back then, my heart was cold and was much more resistant to pain, but my encounter with the lovely soprano, Christine, had caused my stone-cold heart to soften.

I had fallen madly in love with the young Christine… Unfortunately, that love led me to my damnation; to the demise of the Opera Ghost. How ironic. Imagine it: the cold, merciless Opera Ghost fall in love with such a tender thing as Christine. It was ludicrous; inconceivable!

It was an unrequited love that had emerged in the darkness of the night… She had been in love with me at one point, but it was the false me. She had loved the Angel of Music, and maybe she had even loved the ever-so-notorious Phantom of the Opera. But she did not love Erik; the man behind the mask. She did not love the man who was behind the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost. She only loved the fantasy of our relationship; not the reality.

But really, was there such a thing as a relationship between the two of us? I think not.

_Oh, Christine… We're perfect for each other…_

A thought like that had once crossed my lunatic mind. Christine and I were everything but a perfect couple. We were like a match made in hell; however, she and the boy, Raoul, they… they were a couple made in heaven.

The thought made my vision blur with pitiful tears that I stopped from falling…

Christine and I were polar opposites; She, a being of cleansing, pure light and I, the entity of tainted darkness. But no matter how tender and caring a creature she was, there was a dark part of her, just like there was in everybody.

I absent-mindedly stroked the blades of grass with my rough, calloused hands. The smoothness of the grass was a contrast to the rough skin of my hands.

I then turned to glance at my surroundings. My eyesight fully took in the beauty of my surroundings. There were dew-covered pastel-colored roses on both sides of me, and the sunlight peeking from the mass of clouds up above shown right on top of them, helping intensify their beauty. There are puddles all around me, glittering in the sunlight that escapes the dark clouds. The green grass was as also shining in all its glory. Even the people passing by were beautiful in their own strange ways.

I choked at my realization: everything was beautiful; except, of course, me. I was the one ruining all their beauty and glory; I, Erik the monster, whom didn't deserve to be here… The world would have been better off without a creature as horrible as I.

And then the tears fell…

The tears that tried so strongly to not fall… The tears that contained all the bitterness, all the hatred, all the sorrow of the world poured freely down my face. The soft feeling of my tears pouring down my distorted, malformed face felt peculiar. Perhaps it was because I had not felt them for such a long time?

_Perhaps…_

I had thought of that word once when I thought that perhaps Christine loved me as much as I loved her. Such useless thinking poisoned my mind and led me to believe an illusion; a fool's dream. But such wishful thinking led me to eternal suffering; to unending mourning for the things that I had imagined, to the things that could never happen to a man such as me.

Those cold, miserable thoughts only worsened my despair; and I continued crying like a child whose parents were gone and never to return.

I grasped my face with my large, now clumsy hands; trying to hide myself from the cruel darkness that the world seemed to throw at me. People passing by me stared at the wretched state I was in. How foolish I must look to them, with my rather large hands clasping on to my face; shielding my soaked face from their view, but it did little to stop them from seeing my tears.

Smiling families and playful children came into my view taunting me with their apparent happiness; as if knowing of my utter misery. Why were they goading at my depression? Or maybe they weren't… What if I was just paranoid?

In my entire life, I had never predicted nor even thought about myself ever being reduced to a mangled and dirty crying heap on the floor that I am in now. I had always been a proud being, so I never thought I would be reduced to _this._

_Amazing what love could do to you_.

I lost count of the hours I spent crying there on the floor, but after some time, I managed to muster up the courage to stand up.

My joints felt stiff as I began to walk in a strange, rigid fashion. After a whole day without moving much, it was to be expected that I would have difficulty walking.

I don't know where exactly I am headed; after all, it doesn't really matter where I go because of the fact that I have no home to go back to and it's not like anybody cares about this man, Erik. So, why should it matter where I go?

After a while the stiffness faded, and I was once again able to walk normally. I was now out of the park and into the winding streets of the city.

I was not the only man out there who had nowhere to go. Men sat along the monumental buildings of Paris; all dirty and in rags like myself. However, unlike me, these grimy men were begging passer byres for any amount of money, and some even asked for a meal.

I preferred not to do what they did in order to survive. I will find another way of surviving; I will not step down to the level of being a parasite. I will not go through the humiliation of having to beg to survive.

My feet had led me near the slums of the city. I, myself, had never been into them, for I had never really been a member of the poor, working-class. Neither have I dwelled along with normal people, no matter how poor they might be.

I took a seat adjacent to a poorly constructed building that pertained to the slums, not knowing why, but complying anyway to the strange decisions my body takes.

It was already nightfall, and the little light that reached the outside of the slums came from the small candles gleaming through the shattered windows from the small residential dwellings.

I think it strange that seemingly such small, insignificant candlelight had the power to maintain the non-lighted streets of the slums from being pitch-dark.

Every now and then, solitary figures would pass by me, seeming to come back home from the intense work they had to endure during the harsh day. As it got darker and darker, I stopped paying attention to the people as they passed by.

I was doing a rather swell of ignoring the world outside of me; however, a slight shuffle of fabric caught my attention. I dared not turn my face up for fear of scaring whoever is in front of me. I merely lifted my head slightly, giving me a view of two small feet. Judging by the person's feet I could tell the person was female; the ragged skirt hovering above her ankles gave away her gender as well as the size of her feet.

"Monsieur…" She called out in a timid little voice. She shouldn't address me with such politeness and respect; I didn't deserve to be acknowledged in such a way. I wasn't worth being respected.

I didn't answer to her coy little call, but she didn't give up, "Monsieur, are you alright?'

"Please… just leave me be…" I managed to groan out in a parched tone. Despite my plead, she continued standing in front of me; refusing to leave me. Couldn't she understand that I was not worth her precious time? She would do better speaking to an inanimate object.

For what felt like an eternity, she finally decided to move. From the little view I had of her, I saw her bent down and put something on the floor, her overworked fingers releasing the object on the ground next to me.

"It's not much, Monsieur, but I assure you: it is better than nothing." She finally spoke. It wasn't until then that I realized how much kindness there was in her voice.

I covered the distorted part of my face with my right hand, and looked up to see her. And there, in front of me stood a young girl no older than Christine dressed in a pitiful, ragged dress. Her long chocolate hair was tied up into a long somewhat messy braid, with some stray hairs escaping the confines of her ribbon. Bruises and cuts were scattered throughout her light skin. She was in no way ugly; she was actually quite pretty with her slender form and sweet, tender features.

She was indeed a pretty youth. As he expected, her mellow jade eyes gave off purity and absolute kindness.

I gave the object on the floor a glance and then returned my vision to her youthful face. "What is it? What is this thing you have offered me?" I questioned; unaware of why I even bothered to ask.

"It is bread, Monsieur, I am sure you are hungry. I know it is not much, but as I stated before, it is better than nothing. Unfortunately, this is all I could afford to offer you." She spoke gently.

"I am no beggar. I did not ask for your help, mademoiselle." I replied. I wasn't going to allow her to sacrifice herself for an unworthy being such as myself.

"No, you are no beggar, but I wish to help you out of my own accord." She answered. "Please, Monsieur, please accept my help." She added.

I said nothing as I watched her. Why did she insist on helping a lost cause like me?

I then did something I didn't think I would ever do: I stopped shielding my face and allowed her to see my face voluntarily. Maybe scaring her would get her to stop wasting her time with me.

As I peeled my hand away from my face, she looked on with wide eyes. Her immediate reaction was to flinch, but realization didn't sink in until later. When it finally did come, she only directed her face to the ground.

"Now that you have seen my true nature, will you leave me to myself?" I said roughly. She seemed to be offended by my request, for she looked at me disbelievingly.

"Your true nature, Monsieur?" She said.

"Yes, now, please take your bread and don't waste your time here." I declared curtly.

She seemed disappointed, but she did not take her bread; instead, she turned on her heel and left. Soon, she was only a black dot moving deep into the slums. I eyed the bread waiting for me on the floor. Had she forgotten it?

After a while, I rolled unto my back and tried to make myself as comfortable as I could. That proved to be a hard task, for either way I would always end up uncomfortable sleeping on a cold, concrete floor, but miraculously, sleep did come to me this night…

--

I woke up this morning to find myself in the same position in which I had slept in through the whole night; however, it wasn't as cold as I expected it to be last night. I sat up painfully, and realized that over me was a dark, heavy blanket shielding me from the morning cold.

When had I gotten this? I don't remember putting it on myself, or even having. As I grew more and more aware of my surroundings, I took notice of the bread the girl from last night had given me. It was still intact, which I found rather strange.

My stomach grumbled quite loudly, and it was then that I realized how hungry I actually was. I reached for the bread desperately, but as I neared the piece of bread I retreated from it.

And so, I stayed here in the slums for the whole day, every once in a while stretching my legs out. I don't know the exact reason why I decided to stay in the dump of a place, but I did.

Soon, daylight faded away, and in its stead was obscure darkness. I stood up as I once again saw her, the girl from last night. At first, she seemed startled by my sudden movement, but calmed once she noticed it was just me.

"Monsieur," She spoke softly, "You didn't take the bread…"

"Here," I said, handing her the blanket she had probably put over my form the night before, "This is yours, I presume."

"No, please keep it. You need it far more than I do." She replied.

And then I lost it.

"Why? Why do you try to help me!? Can't you see that your kindness is wasted on me? Nothing good will come from trying to help somebody like me! No benefits will come from aiding a wretch like me! Now, go! Leave me!" I shouted angrily

"Monsieur, I do not do this to benefit myself, I do it to help. Why don't you accept it? Is it your pride that which stops you from allowing it?" She countered. "It's okay to rely on others every once in a while. There's nothing wrong with it, Monsieur."

Her words left me speechless.

After a moment of awkward silence I finally said, "Aren't you repulsed by me? Aren't you afraid of this monster standing in front of you? This monster that is breathing the same air you are?"

"No," she replied with something akin to pity in her orbs of green, "I _don't_ see a monster. I see a man like every other out there. A man who is in need. That's what I see." She corrected.

And once again, she left me speechless.

We both remained unmoving; until she moved forward and bent down to grab the still wrapped piece of bread abandoned on the floor. She walked back to where I was.

The gesture was simple, but it turned something deep in my heart. This girl, practically a child, had moved something within me.

And once again, the tears spilled from my eyes.

And I did something that surprised me more than it did her.

_I hugged her._

There I was, clutching on to a child, sobbing loudly and letting out all the pain and sadness I had stored up in me since the incident with Christine.

"What… what is your name, monsieur?" She inquired softly.

"Erik… It's Erik…" I said, still crying like a child in his mother's arms.

"Mine is Suzanne…" She said.

And then she returned my embrace. It was then that I came to a stunning realization.

_Perhaps there is such a thing as a beacon of light in the darkness of the infinite night… Although it was small, it was still there; bright and triumphant. Not even the power of the infinite darkness could stop it from shining its light…_

--

_The End…_

_--_


End file.
